maybe it’s their pants
When I was flagging traffic last week, there was ample time to entertain my thoughts. Or to
not avoid them. Once you put on your safety gear and pick up your stop sign, you commit
to giving motorists, cyclists and pedestrians your utmost observation. Distractions like iPods,
Walkmans or watching Olympic handball on an iPhone are verboten.
So during slow periods you’re at the mercy of your bored brain. The slimmest of ideas will
flicker through, like “Is the plural of Walkman Walkmans or Walkmen?” Most of these stray
and arid notions have spiraled off into the ether. However, I have one I’ve yet to shake.
And that thought is: I really don’t like the Oompa-Loompas. It’s not that I have a major
beef with them, but when they do come to mind, they irritate me. I don’t know if it’s their
mischievious nature, disastrous wardrobe choices or their tendency to break into song
and dance without being asked. Maybe it’s because they don’t have names and/or don’t
wear nametags.
But I gotta own it. I assure you that it’s not their diminutive stature. I am a former short
person. I was 4′ 10″ (1.4723 metres) when I started the 8th grade, small enough to fit into
the case of the tuba I played in the school band. (A textbook case of overcompensation.)
I have no trouble with Munchkins. This could be due to a favorable predisposition to the
works of L. Frank Baum from living in Kansas so long. Even though they, too, sing and dance
without provocation or invitation, at least some of them have names, or subgroups like The
Lollipop Kids. Plus they’re bi-gendered, which likely cuts down on sexual frustration, which
can lead to mischieviousness.
I must further confess that I don’t like either version of the O-Loompas, those of the Gene
Wilder movie or the Johnny Depp – Tim Burton effort.
So, there. I’ve admitted it and I’m a better person having done so. That’s the first step to
addressing the problem. I’ll work on it as I refurbish our greenhouse today. One factor
I’ll have to consider is that the You Tube code for the Depp-Burton version of the little
guys starts “cEVil”. See evil? Coincidence? Yeah, probably.
Comments are closed.
Would the problem be solved if we referred to them as Whipple-Scrumpets instead? If not, exposing them to your bear or, even better, some Whangdoodles, Hornswogglers, or Snozzwangers should do the trick. Let ’em dance around that without provocation.
No term will distract from their hairdo and hair color, but I guess we could try “Job Creators”.
It’s amazing what I learn from your blog coupled with necessary visits to Wikipedia as appropriate.
I’m here to inform and amuse, mostly amuse.
Isn’t it amazing what stray thoughts enter our brain and you just cannot overcome the little taunting that they give to us. Lately everywhere I go I see the word OAK. Oak Lane, Oak Wood, Oak Tree…. My sister and I were talking about it the other day coming back from Arkansas and we have to turn down a street to get to her house and it was called Bent Oak. We busted out laughing because we had been seeing Oak for the last 200 miles and closer to home we thought that we were rid of the word.
It’s a good thing you didn’t fixate on STOP.